


In My Place

by finwaytootired



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, rated for the brief sex scene at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finwaytootired/pseuds/finwaytootired
Summary: A conversation on marriage.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Oromë, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oromë/Vána (Tolkien)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	In My Place

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to have a happy ending, but it just didn't turn out that way, oops! Thanks to Sally_the_Sunflower for input on what pairing to write, and for giving me the idea of Vána/Oromë/Tyelko drama to begin with!
> 
> Side note: included a real subtle reference to Celegorm having albinism, because I really enjoy that headcanon for him!
> 
> Title comes from [a Coldplay song by the same name.](https://youtu.be/gnIZ7RMuLpU)

It had been a pleasant day of hunting, and a fruitful one at that; between them they had taken down two harts and a boar, snared three rabbits, and managed to scavenge some quail eggs and mushrooms. Covered in blood and dirt the pair decided to stop by a narrow stream to wash up, and it was then, as they lay on the bank, allowing the air to dry their nude bodies, that Tyelkormo posed his query.

“Why have you not wed me?”

The entire forest seemed to go silent as the Vala beside him visibly contemplated the words just put forth.

Ever lacking in patience, Tyelkormo repeated himself.

“Why have you not wed me? I believe that is a simple question.”

A moment longer of consideration, and Oromë spoke. “If I understand correctly, the marriage customs of your people involve the approval of the parents of the betrothed. In your case, your parents would never allow it, and in mine, well… I am lacking, at least in what would be considered a traditional sense.”

“All irrelevant.” Tyelko propped himself up on his elbows to better look at his companion, a barely visible frown curving his lips. “I would think you would know better, considering how oddly invested the Valar were in my grandfather’s marital affairs.”

The Vala did not alter his position, continuing to stare into the sky in a blatant avoidance of the elf’s judgemental gaze. “That was an entirely different matter,” he dismissed. “Now if you would kindly enlighten me on the details of marriage amongst your kind..?”

“Well,” Tyelkormo began, now fully upright with his legs crossed beneath him, “the involvement of the parents is only part of the marital ceremony, and the ceremony is entirely for show. True marriage is attained through an exchange of blessings between the betrothed and, more importantly, through the union of their bodies.”

“Then we are wed,” Oromë replied, still not taking his eyes off the endless expanse above them. “We exchange many blessings often, and just as often, if not more, our bodies come together as one.”

The elf’s unpigmented skin flushed; in part due to the sudden memories brought on, and in part due to irritation. “ _Of course_ we are not _wed_ ,” he replied, words dripping with annoyance. “My father has told me what marriage is like — how you can feel the change in connection between your fëar — and I have not felt that with you. Our bond has been the same since we met when I was young, and though it has obviously strengthened over time, the core of it has never changed. I feel no more married to you than I feel to the stones beneath us.”

At that Oromë finally decided to face him, rolling lazily to his right and propping his head up with a fist. “Tyelkormo,” he said, taking a similar tone as one addressing a stubborn child. “You know very well that Vána is already my spouse. It was predestined in the Music that we were to be together and as much as you might wish it I cannot change that.”

A huff passed Tyelkormo’s lips; a sign of his mounting frustration. “It is _entirely_ unfair. How would you know that you desired her as your own if it had not been ‘ _predestined_?’ Would you still choose her over me if you —”

“Now you are the one being unfair,” the Vala interjected, cutting off the remainder of the elf’s grievance. “I have not chosen her over you because I had no choice to begin with. It was Ilúvatar’s will that she and I be joined in marriage. That is all.”

“I suppose, then, it was also Eru’s will for me to fall madly in love with you with no hope of reciprocation?”

Oromë sighed heavily, an apparent weariness settling upon him. “You know that is not true. I love you as deeply and fiercely as you do me, I am simply incapable of changing present circumstances. This is our reality whether we wish it or not, and it will do neither of us any good to continue thinking in hypotheticals.”

Tyelkormo sat in silence for a long while, presenting a neutral countenance as he contemplated the Vala’s words. Of course Oromë was not necessarily _wrong_ , but he certainly was not right. Nothing about the situation was right. The elf wondered, for a moment, if Morgoth’s rebellion against the Valar and Eru and the Music was perhaps justified, but he banished the traitorous thought as quickly as it came.

“If that is the case,” he said at last, a touch of sorrow bleeding into his words despite himself, “if I can have naught more than what has already been given, and can offer you no more than what has already been offered, may I offer you now my body? I wish to lose myself in you for a time.”

“I accept whatever you would freely give me, Tyelkormo,” the Vala responded, a distant sadness that reflected the elf’s own apparent in his tone.

Closing the small gap between them, Tyelko leaned over and pressed his lips hungrily to Oromë’s before shifting to mount himself on the Vala’s not yet hardened phallus. The lack of preparation was painful, but infinitely more bearable than the pain in his chest, so Tyelkormo chased that feeling; tried to drown himself in it.

It was not enough.

Not enough.

Never enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm not much of a writer (I know I tend to be dialogue-heavy), so any critiques/comments are helpful!
> 
> Find me over on Tumblr, also @ [finwaytootired](https://finwaytootired.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
